


The Foundling

by FilmEater



Category: Loki - Fandom, Loki Fandom, Marvel
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, F/M, Gen, Other, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:37:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FilmEater/pseuds/FilmEater
Summary: Teen Loki finds a human baby and takes it to Asgard with him.





	1. Ancient History

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't written any Loki fiction before and my knowledge of Norse mythology is very limited, so please bear with me.  
I'm not sure where I'm going with this story (as if I'm ever sure...), but let's give it a try.

The boy stopped at the sound. He didn’t mean to, there were very few mortal sounds that were of any interest to him and this wasn’t one of them. But he stopped at the sound, looked around to locate where it was coming from and moved there.

It was a baby, wrapped in thin blankets, lying on a rock that somewhat resembled the shape of a basin. It was small and wrinkled and a sickly grayish-blue, and the sound it made had long ago stopped being crying and was now something else. Something pitiful that made him stop, and turn, and look for the source. And now he had it – a baby.

What in Hel was he supposed to do with a baby?

Nothing. He had nothing to do with a baby. He turned, about to leave.

It made the sound again.

He knew what it was then. The changeling. He’d heard about her from both the stable boys that worked in the slightly larger pile of rocks these Midgardians called houses, and from two of the girls he’d bedded. The sickly child who’d been left by the fairies instead of the tanner’s actual daughter, stolen in the night. When so many folk spoke of something while he was bedding them, it must be important.

They left her here in the hopes the fairies would take her back, return their own child. Left her out to die.

Without stopping to think – an entirely uncharacteristic move on his part – the boy picked up the baby and disappeared.

Mother would know what to do with it.

***

“Loki Odinson, explain yourself.”

Mother was not happy.

Not that he expected her to be, but it was quite possible he’d never seen her that angry. At him.

“They left her out to die,” he said, shrugging, letting her take the baby from him.

She nestled the child in the crook of her arm, running a hand in the air above her, the crease between her eyes growing deeper. “Allfather, she nearly is. You-“ Frigga’s eyes settled on a guard that stood by the door, “get me a healer. Run.”

She turned back to her son, “so you were out bedding the Midgardians _again_ – against your father’s instructions _again_ – and thought to yourself that stealing children is something new you should try, is that correct?”

His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

“I can’t hear you,” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, mother.” 

Frigga rolled her eyes, shaking her head, muttered, “what am I going to do with you?” he opened his mouth to answer but shut it right back when she focused on him again. Silence was best. “Go to your rooms.”

He was dismissed.

***

They called her Lady Kate of Midgard, a variation on Catriona, which was the name one of the boys whispered to him in the darkened hayloft when he told him of her, and until she was running around on legs that have just straightened, her brown curls a mess on her head, he’d barely laid eyes on her again.

That was, until she crashed right into him, tangling between his legs and nearly making him tumble over her. The strain of curses he hurtled her way brought tears to her eyes and she ran out faster than she’d run in. He had no patience for children. He had better things to do, like that tall lanky fellow from The Guard who’d been eyeing him all evening. And after that, the blonde maid who was currently busy serving drinks around the table. If she’d let him. She hadn’t yet, giggling that he was too young although he was already of the same height as her and growing taller. He hoped tonight would be the night.

“Loki, what have you done to the child?” she looked like a toy in Thor’s arms, a little doll.

“Nothing,” he shrugged, already searching the crowd at the banquet for the guard. He had things to do.

“Then why is she crying, brother?”

“She’s a child, children cry.”

He turned, having spotted the fellow, and sauntered in his direction, straightening his back, getting the hair out of his eyes. Showtime.

He was intercepted by his mother, neatly stepping into stride with him, twining her arm with his. “Who’s the target?” she asked with a small smile, “him?” she motioned towards the man. Loki nodded. “Good choice,” she chuckled.

“Am I needed for something else, mother?” he asked.

“Not at the moment,” she said, but continued to walk with him.

He raised an eyebrow, an exact reflection of her own gesture. “You brought a child into this household, then left others to fend for her. That’s not how it works. She’s your responsibility, not mine, or your father’s, or your brother’s.”

He nodded, not sure where she was going with this. He hadn’t really seen the girl, but he made sure that she was taken care of. By people who weren’t him. People who had patience for children.

“You should be kinder to her, Loki,” his mother said, patting his arm, “you’ve got more in common with her than you think.” Then she walked away.

What in the name of Hel was that all about?

Nevermind, he’d reached his destination. He’d think about that later. He had better things to do.

***

He did as he was told. Or at least he tried to. He stopped yelling at the girl when she came too close, and every evening he’d take her hand and walk with her through the gardens, listening to her babble. She would speak, and he’d make the things she imagined appear out of thin air to make her laugh. It wasn’t long before they spent some time each evening on a cushioned bench in a hidden corner of the gardens, her curled up with her head on his lap, talking about the books she’d started reading. Sometimes he’d speak a different language just to see what she’d learned and help her practice. They taught her languages from across all the Nine Realms, but he insisted she’d learn more of the Midgardian ones. He didn’t know many of those and learned just ahead of her.

It was those evening walks that made him notice the alarming rate at which she grew. She was already higher than his waist, and she was catching up to him not just in height, but in intelligence as well. She was growing. She was growing fast.

“Well of course she is, Loki, she’s Midgardian,” his mother had said, when he came to her.

“Do something,” he asked.

“That’s just their lives, son, they live and they die in the blink of an eye.”

“Please mother,” Thor said, having joined him in this endeavor. His brother, too, was growing fond of the mortal child.

“Do. Something.” Loki repeated.

Frigga studied him for a very long time, he fought the urge to avert his eyes. Eventually she nodded.

They went to the child’s room, and while she slept, Frigga entwined them in magic so complex Loki’s head hurt trying to follow it. He watched intently, though, trying to understand, trying to learn. He’d never seen anything that intricate. It engulfed him, his brother, the child, pulling them together in some sort of pattern that disappeared into the girl’s skin. He didn’t know how long it lasted; he’d lost all track of time. Eventually, though, his mother said, “it’s done.”

“What did you do?” Loki asked. Thor listened intently, cocking his head to one side.

“Tied your lifelines together,” Frigga said. “This way, her lifeline takes a cue from yours, and it will slow down to match.”

“Fantastic,” Thor smiled, blonde hair falling on his forehead.

Loki didn’t smile, “what happens if we die?”

“You’ve still got centuries to live,” she answered.

“What happens if we die, mother?”

“The connection is severed; she’ll resume growing old in Midgardian speed.”

“What if it’s just one of us?” Thor asked. Loki looked at him in surprise. He hadn’t quite expected his brother to ask an intelligent question. Thor shot him a look as if he’d read his mind and was not impressed with Loki’s lack of faith.

“She’ll have the other’s lifeline to match.”


	2. The In-Between

It was a strange thing, growing up knowing she was an outsider, but having no memory of the outside she’d come from. Kate had read all the Midgardian books Frigga and Loki brought her, and some that she found on her own in the abandoned sections of the huge royal library. New ones kept appearing, painting an ever-changing world.

“What have you been reading now, Rémi?” Loki asked from somewhere above her. She had been lying curled up on their bench, head in his lap, staring at the tiny stream that crossed the path. The sky was darkening above them. Soon night will fall, and he’d walk her back into the palace and go bedding someone. She wasn’t sure who. She didn’t really care to find out.

“Don’t call me that, _Rei_,” a word she’d learned a long time ago, one that she knew mattered to him, one that she knew he hoped would actually apply one day. She mocked him with it every single time he called her Rémi. A foundling boy. She’d been kitten before, she remembered. She liked that better, being kitten. But he’d switched to Rémi when they’d both read that Midgardian book. He thought it was funny. She didn’t. They hardly ever called each other by their real names now. Kate couldn’t quite put her finger on when it started, but it was around the same time she’d become aware of his frequent sexual encounters, and what those words actually _meant_.

“Can we go to Midgard?” she asked.

The air stilled around them; Kate held her breath.

“What could possibly make you want to go there?” Loki asked eventually.

“I want to see,” she said. “Can you take me?”

“Father would be furious.”

“Last I checked that was on the pros list for you,” she turned, lying on her back, looking up at him. He sat back, one arm somewhere behind her head, resting on the bench’s armrest. The other arm thrown over the back of the bench. His lips curved into a smile, green eyes glinting mischievously. Score.

But then the smile wavered, “Mother would be furious, too.”

“Frigga never stays mad at you.”

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“Where I came from.”

He nodded, as if that was what he’d expected.

***

He woke her with a touch to her shoulder and a finger to his lips, indicating silence. Kate rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up, throwing the covers off her. Barefoot, in her pale green nightgown, she followed Loki down side-corridors she’d never known existed, her hand clasped safely in his. He was properly dressed, of course, black trousers and a nondescript brown shirt. His sneaking out clothes.

When guards walked by, he pulled her close, whispering in her ear, “don’t move.” The guards walked right passed them, unseeing.

She stopped when they’ve reached the Bifrost, his hold on her hand halting him as well. He turned and raised an eyebrow.

“I thought we were sneaking out,” Kate said.

“We are. Just not from Heimdall. He needs to know where we are.”

“Why?”

“So I can save you when you inevitably get into more trouble than you can deal with,” Kate jumped at the voice as the man materialized behind her. She was used to that sort of thing from Loki, but not from others. Heimdall. “Come along, children.”

***

They were standing on a hill, in the center of a stone circle. One of the stones was on its side, a basin-like shape with a small puddle of icy-water inside.

“Here?” Kate asked, wrapping her arms around herself against the bite of the cold wind. A moment later she was wearing a heavy woolen dress and a thick fur-lined coat. “Thanks,” she said.

“Right here,” Loki pointed towards the stone. “You were nearly as blue as that puddle,” he spoke so quietly she barely heard the words.

“Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did they leave me?” she was surprised at the way her voice broke when she asked the question. The puddle blurred.

“You were sick. They were stupid. Mortals are generally stupid. Surely you’ve learned that from the books?”

“Didn’t they have healers?”

“Not the kind that could help you.”

“So they’d just left me to die?”

“They left you for the fairies to find and switch back with their own child. The healthy child they thought the fairies had stolen.”

“What?” she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around this story.

“I told you. Stupid. Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”

He put an arm around her shoulders and turned her away from the rock, directed her out of the stone circle and down the hill.

“Why did you take me?” she asked.

There was a long silence as they made their way down the hill, “I don’t know.”

***

Lady Kate of Midgard stood in a circle of Thor’s friends, a goblet of wine in her hand, jewels glistening in her hair, on her neck, on her wrists. Her dress showing just enough cleavage to make Frigga raise an eyebrow and Sif raise her glass. She couldn’t remember what this party was for, and couldn’t quite care at this point. So far she’d been asked to dance by so many men she’d started forgetting all their names. One of them tried to convince her to go out on the balcony with him, and grew just a bit too insistent to her liking. She was an inch away of unsheathing one of the knives Loki had given her, but then Thor showed up and just punched the man. He grinned, “finally, the party is starting,” and pulled her in for a dance.

They were discussing some sort of misadventure Thor was planning for the morrow, and were quickly losing her attention. She scanned the people in the room, looking for a familiar face. She found him standing across the hall, his hand on the small of a woman’s back, his lips near her ear. They hadn’t spoken in a long time, not really. Not since the day he took her to Midgard. Something changed that day, something she didn’t really understand. There were no more evening walks, no more conversations about books. Loki had stepped away, and seemed to focus his attention on chaos and bedding. Tonight he was clearly working on the latter. She wondered what sort of chaos he’d already created, just for the pleasure of watching it unfold, that he was free to pursue whomever it was he was pursuing. She finished the wine from her glass and put it on the tray of a passing servant.

They didn’t notice her step away, but Loki sure did notice her walk up to him, raising an eyebrow in that way of his. He didn’t take a step back from the woman.

“Your Highness,” Kate said, nodding to him.

“Lady Kate,” in public she was always Lady Kate.

“Dance with me,” she said, not really a question.

“I’m otherwise engaged, I’m afraid,” there was no apology in his tone. Not that Kate had expected any. The woman turned, eyes widening slightly at the sight of Kate, which made the younger girl smile wider. She’d chosen her outfit with care, emphasizing breasts that were still growing, a figure that was already mostly there. She hadn’t quite planned on getting in Loki’s way, it was just a happy accident that she was allowing to happen.

“I’m sure your ladyfriend won’t mind one dance, Your Highness,” she smiled sweetly. “Your attention isn’t that fleeting, after all.”

A second eyebrow joined the first, then he grinned. “I’ll be right back, darling,” he said to the woman, and took Kate’s hand, leading her to the dance floor.

A hand on the small of her back, hers resting on his shoulder. Their bodies pressed together as he led her around the room. Even in heels, her head barely cleared his shoulder. He’d stopped growing very recently, and it seemed she’d stopped as well. She wondered if she’d grow some more or forever be destined to look at his collarbone if she didn’t look up.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Rémi?” his voice was close to her ear.

The room swirled around them, but for a moment she caught a glimpse of the woman, watching them. She grinned, “quite.”

It didn’t last long, of course. The dance ended and he spun her around one last time, then steadied her for a moment before letting go. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, kitten, if you want me to bed you like the rest of them, all you need to do is ask.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted at his retreating back. _Bed you like the rest of them_. Absolutely not. It was another moment until she registered how he’d called her. Kitten. Well that was an interesting development.

Loki disappeared shortly after; the woman gone with him. Kate grabbed a goblet from a passing tray and drank deeply. Jealousy, he’d called it. She hated it when he was right.

“Lady Kate!” a man with a grin stepped into her line of vision, handsome, light haired, the complete opposite of the one that had disappeared. She couldn’t for the life of her remember his name, but she knew she’d seen him before. Danced with him earlier in the evening probably.

She let him pull her in for another dance, gulping down as much of the wine as she could before putting the goblet on yet another passing tray. He fetched her another drink after the dance, then they danced some more. He made her laugh, making little jokes, and his hand on her arm, leading her to the balcony, was warm and steady. She didn’t mind his kiss at all, it was just when a hand fondled her breast that she took a step back.

“Wai-“ she couldn’t finish the word, he was kissing her again. She tried to push him away but couldn’t, tried to speak but couldn’t.

For a moment, her mind was blank with panic, her body frozen.

Then she remembered the knife.

_There are only two places you should aim at, if a man is forcing his attention on you_. His voice was clear in her mind, although the instruction was given a long time ago. He’d drilled it into her, reducing her to tears once, to make sure that the act was instinctive. To make sure that she wouldn’t panic and freeze when the time came. She panicked and froze, but then she remembered. Only two places. _The neck or the dick_.

She went for the second option.

The man froze when he felt the sharp edge pressed against his lower region. She finally managed to take a proper step back, severing the contact of his body with hers.

“Get away from me,” her throat constricted around the words, making them hard to hear. She tried again; it came out much louder than expected the second time. Almost a scream. “GET AWAY FROM ME.”

Someone heard. She didn’t know who it was. A head poked around a corner, eyes widened, then the head disappeared. The man took one step back, hands up in a defensive posture, “c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that,” he tried for a smile, his hands slowly moving towards her again. She pushed the knife in his direction again and he froze.

“Bitch,” he muttered, “don’t you point that thing at me,” and before she could blink the knife was out of her hand, cluttering on the floor tiles. She dived under his arm and ran towards the hall, running into Sif, Balder and Fandral. Sif caught her, looked her up and down briefly, then asked, “Did I just hear him call you bitch?”

Kate nodded.

Sif grinned, then yelled, “THOR!” a head bobbed up somewhere in the distance, a loyal puppy answering its master’s voice.

“Alright, Lady Kate?” Fandral asked, they were blocking the way, making sure the man had nowhere to go except through them. Kate nodded. “You don’t mind if I go ahead and…?” he nodded towards the man.

“N-no…?”

“Fantastic,” he grinned, bouncing. It wasn’t a proper party without a proper fight, after all.

“I believe Thor has right of first punch on this one,” Sif said, just as the large man appeared.

“Who do I need to punch?” he asked, already grinning. Then he caught the look on Kate’s face and his grin faltered. “Again?” he asked. She shrugged.

“This one called her bitch,” Sif offered, her smile widening at the expression on Thor’s face. Somewhere behind them, the man apparently tried to make a run for it, only to be punched squarely in the face by Fandral.

“Sorry, I got first punch after all,” he said.

Thor turned, eyes locking on his target. The man was just getting up, using one of the columns for balance. “I hear,” he said, “that you’ve been uncourteous to my little sister.” Little sister. He’d called her that since she was a child, even though everyone knew she wasn’t. Loki never called her that.

“No, Y-your Highness.”

Thor raised an eyebrow. Even from behind his back, Kate could tell he raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t a facial expression so much as a full body expression.

“So you’re calling my lady a liar?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“I’m bored of this,” Thor said, “Kate, I know Fandral already got the first punch, but do you want to contribute?”

Kate shook her head. She felt sick. She most certainly didn’t want to contribute.

“All mine then,” he grinned.

***

Several things happened after that night –

The man spent a month in the infirmary, getting put back together after Thor had almost singlehandedly tore him apart.

Thor got a new scar to show off, courtesy of the knife Kate had dropped.

Loki had re-instated their evening meetings, except they no longer happened in the garden. He met with her in the training room, and drilled knife exercises into her for an hour each evening. He no longer stopped the instruction when she got the knife pointed to soft bits of skin. Now they sparred in earnest. Now she had to learn to keep the knife in her hand. Use it when needed. Fight without it if it came to that. It was incredibly rare that she managed to win, which was an endless source of frustration.

They never spoke of why.

A day after the man was released from the infirmary, he disappeared. He reappeared three days later, floating in the river. It was another thing she never spoke of to Loki, but they both knew she knew it was him.


	3. Escapades

He found her crying in a far corner of the library, in her favorite nook by a window overlooking the city. She was reading some strange Midgardian literature – newspapers, she said they were called – with tears rolling down her face. A whole pile of the things was strewn around her, showing horrifying images of piles of bodies, skeleton-like humans, barracks, tanks, soldiers.

He wasn’t even looking for her, he was looking for a book, on his way back from a conversation with Sif that was going to turn to immense entertainment later that night, but The Librarian had hinted that perhaps he should look in on Lady Kate.

She looked up just as he took a breath to speak, brown eyes glistening, and he’d lost his train of thought.

“I’m a monster,” Kate said.

Loki gaped at her. Why in Hel would she say that?

“Why in Hel would you say that?”

She gestured towards the Midgardian papers around her, “I’m one of them, aren’t I?” She picked up a paper and shoved it in his hand, “look at what they’ve been doing.” He looked, and it made him sick to his stomach. He tried not to follow the Midgardians too closely, there were far more interesting creatures in the universe, but whenever he looked, they made his eyes roll at best, his stomach turn at worst. He wasn’t Asgard’s favorite son, but none of his games ever caused any of the things the humans have been doing to each other.

“You’re not like that,” he said quietly. “They’re not all like that,” and that was true if only because _she_ wasn’t like that. One exception was enough. Although he’d occasionally met others, back when he bothered to go and look. He lost his taste for the Midgardians after he took Kate.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I could do. You don’t know anything.”

“Right,” he said slowly. Clearly, this was no time for talking sense. “I’ll see you after dinner.”

***

It bothered him. That haunted look in her eyes. The dull expression. She didn’t even try to properly fight him, and he grew irritated and sick of her and dismissed her shortly after they’d begun. He spent some time sitting, unseen, on a cushioned chair in Thor’s room, and watched Sif tear into his brother for something the tall blonde hadn’t actually done. It cheered him up for a bit, but it didn’t take Sif too long to figure out who was really to blame, so Loki hurried to leave the room and hide somewhere they wouldn’t know to look, before she went hunting for him.

He considered, briefly, to let her catch him and see where it goes. It was fun that one time. But he suspected that in her current mood the only place he would go after a bout with Sif was the infirmary, and he’d have nothing fun to remember the night for.

No matter. There were many places to hide in the universe.

***

“I know you’re there,” Kate said, eyes opening and focusing on him in the dark room. He stood just inside her door, hovering, deciding whether his plan was a good idea or not.

“Get up,” he said. “We’re going out.”

“Out where?”

“Out.”

They stood in the line to the theatre, Loki’s arm draped casually over Kate’s shoulder. She was looking at him, giggling at his outfit. Her own was almost evoking a similar reaction from him. He’d glamoured them into something to blend in with the surroundings, as much as he could. The loose green-and-gold blouse he was wearing mostly unbuttoned almost made him cringe, but the way Kate’s eyes kept darting to his bare chest was enough to make him keep it, even if she couldn’t stop laughing. He’d gotten his own back, putting her in an equally painful outfit, topping it off with platform shoes that made her curse and hold on to him. There was no downside to this arrangement.

It took her a bit of time to get into the mood, to enjoy herself at the concert, but when she finally got it, when she relaxed and started dancing to the music and let the frenzy of the crowd infect her, it was beautiful. She was beautiful. And she was finally properly smiling again.

***

The underground club was smoky, the different colored flickering lights made it hard to focus, not that he had much to focus on outside of his immediate surroundings. The music was loud and unusual but, he discovered, quite to his liking. So was the girl sitting on his lap. From the corner of his eye, he watched Kate sitting at the next table, chatting to a group of young punks. _Punks_. He tossed the word in his mouth, didn’t really like it.

He was confident in her ability to unman each and every one of them should the need arise, but she wasn’t. So he kept an eye out, just in case. He wasn’t doing a very good job, because for the longest time he didn’t suspect anything was wrong as Kate danced. Not until she attempted to take her shirt off. _That_ was entirely unexpected.

“What are you doing?” he caught her, pulled her shirt back down. Someone behind him protested and got an elbow to their windpipe.

“I’m an orange,” she said, slurring her words. “I’m peeling.”

“What? Stop, look at me,” she kept squirming away as he pulled her off the dancefloor and up against a wall, under a dim lamp. Her pupils were blown wide. He ran a hand in the air around her, copying his mother’s quick spell. Something was wrong with her, it lit up all through her system. He’d never seen anything like it. “Come here,” he pulled her after him to the back room of the club, hiding them from the big security guard, clearing away anyone else who got in the way without much thought. He closed the door behind them and with a flick of his fingers, made sure no-one but him could open it.

“Sit,” he sat her on a dirty sofa.

Kate immediately stood up, “nooooooo.”

He was growing tired of this, he flicked a wrist and she was pushed down on the sofa, held in place, “Sit.”

“Loooooki,” she pulled against her invisible restraints.

Something was definitely wrong. He hadn’t heard her address him by his name since she grew intelligent enough to properly banter with. She kept talking, but he ignored her, focusing on unraveling whatever it was that made her… _this_.

It took longer than expected and had him tired from using magic more complex than he thought he’d need. Kate was staring at him, somewhat shocked, her hands shaking at her sides, still strapped to her body with magic.

“You’ll behave now?” Loki asked, dropping to the sofa beside her, stretching his boot-clad legs in front of him. Kate nodded, and he undid the bonds. He leaned his head back against the head of the sofa and closed his eyes.

She was staring. He waited for her to stop, but she didn’t.

Eventually he opened an eye, raised an eyebrow. She shrugged but kept staring.

“What?” he asked once he realized he couldn’t stare her into talking.

“You should only wear this,” she gave him a small smile, her eyes sparkling.

He looked down at himself, at the outfit he’d chosen to blend in, garments he wouldn’t be caught dead in in Asgard. Garments Asgard hasn’t ever even heard of. Black blouse, tucked into dark grey _jeans_, tucked into black _combat boots_. A black leather jacket. A touch of black kohl around his eyes. There were too many studs on everything, and some chains linking bits of clothing that didn’t necessarily need to be linked. Some thick leather bracelets on his wrists. He even did his hair up in that atrocious cockerel comb they called a Mohawk. Father would disown him if he saw. Thor would never _ever_ stop laughing at him. But he’d actually quite liked the look, in a perverse sort of way. _Because_ Father would disown him, probably.

He looked her up and down, fishnets to cut-off jeans to white blouse, studs and chains and all, a leather band tight around her neck drawing the eye much more than expected. She'd lost her jacket somewhere. Assessed his choice of wardrobe for her, then shook his head, “and _you_ shouldn’t wear anything at all, kitten.”

Let her chew on that for a while.

***

They watched the first Midgardian set foot on their moon; on a small grainy black-and-white concoction the Midgardians called a television. The Midgardian wore a ridiculous garment meant to protect him, and Loki wondered whether he’d need to fashion something similarly horrific for Kate, if she suddenly decided she also wanted to set foot on that moon. He’d never thought about that.

He was relieved when she hadn’t asked.

***

The crowd of people would have put an Asgardian parade to shame. They stood, impatiently waiting to get into the field where they’ve been promised concerts by some of the greatest. Nothing was moving fast enough. Loki looked around, put a hand on Kate’s shoulder and whispered in her ear: “watch this.”

A moment later several images of him appeared throughout the crowd, disappearing into the distance. A few minutes later they’ve stormed the fences. He caught the panicky look on the faces of those who must’ve been responsible for organizing the whole thing and grinned.

It was rainy and muddy, half the Midgardians not entirely there, happily floating in an artificial buzz created by chemicals he’d warned Kate to stay away from.

He didn’t expect it to last three days.

He didn’t expect Kate to refuse to leave until the end.

And he certainly didn’t expect her to enjoy trudging around soaked to the bone, refusing his magic of dry clothes, laughing at him to lighten up, tying a green band around his forehead.

Lady Kate of Midgard, telling Loki Odinson to lighten up. Somewhere along the way something went very sideways with his plan.

***

“Loki Odinson, Catriona daughter of Seamus the Tanner,” the voice boomed through the hall and they all froze. Father’s voice had long ago stopped being a source of anything but irritation for him, calling out their full names like that meant nothing but trouble. He looked at Kate, perched on the settee across the room from him, eyes blown wide in a panicky expression. Father had very rarely even acknowledged her presence in court.

“What have you done now, little brother?” Thor asked, tossing Mjolnir in the air, watching it spin. Sif and his other friends, all hanging about as if they’d had nothing else to do, turned to listen.

Loki shrugged. There were too many things to choose from.

The source of the voice appeared in the doorway, “You’re banned from Midgard.” One eye somehow managed to include them both in the statement, and then he was gone.

Oh. That. He was growing bored anyway.

“What have you done, little brother?” Thor asked again.

Loki shrugged, “just suggested some ideas, talked to some people.”

“With the result of…?” Kate prompted.

He shrugged again, “Less chaos than I expected. Some dead rulers, lottery draft, some protests. Woodstock,” he grinned at Kate. They had fun there. “Except for the moon landing. I hadn’t expected them to actually comprehend the information I’ve provided. Now they’ve got their probes out, that’s probably why Father is angry.”

“When?” she asked, “you were always with me.”

He blinked and a projection of him stood next to her, “I can multi-task,” it said, then disappeared.


	4. The Games We Play

They were all getting too old for party games, but the actual parties were getting more and more dull as they grew older, and _something_ had to be done for proper entertainment. It was her suggestion, and Kate was surprised when the group picked it up. Even Loki joined them, which was a rarity. Once they were banned from Midgard, he’d once again disappeared from her general vicinity. But he had to appear at the ball, and when he heard of the game he actually stopped what was obviously shaping up to be his own private evening entertainment, and joined them.

They were sitting in the farthest corner of the banquet hall, strewn on pillows on the floor – Thor, The Warriors Three, Sif, Loki, Baldr and herself. Between them, an empty bottle of wine was spinning, choosing its next victim.

Kate had introduced them to Truth or Dare, and they’ve quickly adapted it to something more to their liking. A bottle of truth-potion laced mead stood nearby, and a regular bottle was making its way between them, following Sif’s “if you don’t drink you can’t play,” declaration.

The bottle stopped spinning, pointing at Thor, “Truth or Challenge, brother,” Loki grinned, surely already planning his next move.

“Challenge!” Thor downed a long gulp of the regular mead. Everyone laughed, his choice hasn’t changed throughout the whole game, bringing about a mountain of hilarity.

“Bring me the crown,” Loki said.

Kate rolled her eyes. Thor stood up, stretching, and disappeared into the mass of people in search of their father. She wished him luck.

“What are you going to do with the crown, Your Highness?” Kate asked. She almost called him Rei, a dangerous mistake to do in public.

“See how well it fits,” he shrugged.

“Lady Kate,” Fandral said, leaning towards her, “should I get you something else to drink? You don’t seem to like the mead.” She’d been taking only small, token sips to make sure she stays in the game. Fandral has been trying to get her drunk the entire evening. He smiled, and she was tempted to let him. She’d let him dance with her most of the night.

“No need,” she smiled, “I’m quite happy as I am.”

Thor returned faster than expected, tossing the crown as he walked, and presented it to Loki with a bow, “Your Highness,” he couldn’t quite keep the mocking from his voice, the satisfied smile from his lips. Loki took the offered crown, settled it on his head, created a mirror to look into and smiled. Kate had to admit, it suited him. He caught her eyes and smiled, the mirror disappearing.

“My turn,” Sif said, spinning the bottle, taking a sip from the regular mead. The neck stopped, pointing at Loki. He didn’t even wait for the question – he picked up the truth-potion mead bottle and raised an eyebrow, waiting. Sif grinned, “is there anyone here you haven’t lied to?” she asked.

“Define _here_,” Loki asked. “This realm, this city, this palace, this room…?”

“This group,” she rolled her eyes.

Loki took a swig; they all waited a moment for the spell to set. “Yes.”

“Huh,” Sif said, and Kate wasn’t sure whether the other woman was surprised or not. “Who?”

He raised a finger, indicating she only got one question, then spun the bottle.

***

Loki sprawled on some pillows, a goblet with wine caught carelessly between two fingers of one hand, the crown held in the other, fingers caressing it slowly. Kate’s eyes kept being drawn to him like a magnet, despite the fact she was in conversation with Fandral. The man’s words registered somewhere in the back of her mind, his fingers dancing lightly on her collarbone now an irritating distraction rather than a pleasant one.

Loki placed the wine glass on the floor and got up suddenly, turned to her and caught her staring, motioned with his head.

“Pardon me,” Kate said to Fandral, and couldn’t even find it within herself to feel guilt or shame.

“Walk with me, kitten,” Loki said, twining her hand in the crook of his elbow. He flicked his wrist as they passed by Odin and the crown disappeared from his hand, appeared back on the Allfather’s head. The old man watched them leave, one eye enough to make her shiver. He always made her uncomfortable.

Loki took her to the gardens, to their little corner, walking silently.

“I can never find this place on my own,” Kate said when they settled on the bench.

“You’re looking with your eyes,” he told her.

“I don’t have magic powers to look with,” she shrugged, reaching for his hand hovering above her as he rested an elbow on the back of the bench, pulling it down to trace his long fingers. She sometimes wondered what it would be like, to have the world at the tips of your fingers like he had. Think of something and it would appear. A dress. A book. A flower.

A flower appeared between his fingers, black stem, green flecks dotting the otherwise brilliant gold petals. It wasn’t like any flower she’d seen in any garden before, but it seemed oddly familiar. She caressed the petals, soft and silky. “I didn’t know you read minds.”

“This used to be your favorite trick when you were little,” he spoke softly, eyes glued to the flower. “Make me a flower, Loki,” he pitched his voice high, imitating a toddler Kate. Then back to his own voice - “What kind? I would ask. And you always said the same thing,” the high-pitched voice spoke again, “A gold flower! No, not like that. It needs to have green freckles! And a black dress!”

“Green freckles and a black dress?” Kate laughed. She had no memory of that. It all happened so long ago. Loki held the flower by the stem, right below the bud, and twirled it around. The black leaves at the stem rose in an entirely unnatural arrangement, swelling like the skirt of a dress. She took the flower, turning it this way and that, twirling the stem like he had. A gold flower with green freckles and a black dress, conjured out of thin air at the whims of a small child. And now again, as if the man could read her mind. She caressed the petals for another moment, then twined the flower into the hair right above her ear.

Loki watched her, eyes following the movement of her hands, stilling on the flower in her hair. When he spoke again, he was still looking at it, “you know there’s a wager on who will be the first you’ll take to your bed, right?”

Kate’s laughed a short, surprised laugh, “surely the only one who _doesn’t_ know is Thor?”

“And we’re all better for it,” Loki said, eyes finally leaving the flower in her hair.

“Is Fandral in the lead?” he nodded. “Did someone place a wager on you?” Kate asked. He nodded again. She smiled, “was it you, you smug little-“

“It wasn’t me,” he cut her off. “It was Sif.”

A pause as she considered it, “you’re lying.”

“I don’t lie to you,” he said.

“Never?” she asked.

“Did I not say, under the influence of a truth-potion, that I’ve never lied to you?”

“What? Before? That was _me_?”

“Who else would it be? You’ve _seen_ me lie to each and every one of them. What did you think?”

“That you were lying,” Kate’s shoulders shook with laugher, and Loki joined her.

“To what end?”

“Confuse everyone. You like that,” she reached a hand up to move a strand of black hair that fell on his forehead, tucked it behind his ear.

“Sometimes the truth works just as well for that. Sometimes it works even better.”

“So, the truth – should I go to bed with Fandral?”

“No,” his answer was quick and short.

“What? You’re not even going to ask me if I want to?”

“No,” a smile danced at the corners of his lips but didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Should I go to bed with you then?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she asked, she’d been playing with his hand again, turning it this way and that, pressing the tips of their fingers together, scratching her nails down his palm. His other hand had sneaked into her hair, fingers teasing lightly just behind her ear.

“Why?” he repeated the question, brow furrowing, as if he didn’t understand.

“Why should I, Catriona of Midgard, go to bed with you, Loki Odinson, the biggest whore on Asgard?”

“I’m not a whore,” he said. “People don’t pay me.”

“Information is currency,” Kate grinned. She knew well enough his various ways to get information. He had to concede the point.

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes.

“So why?” she asked again, sitting up. He didn’t let her move far, pulling her to sit on his lap, one hand still in her hair, resting on the back of her neck. This was new. It was also oddly comfortable.

“Because you want to,” he said, grinning. Smug.

He was right, of course. He was usually right, especially about her. She traced a sharp cheekbone with the tips of her fingers, tucking the once-again-escaped strand of his hair behind his ear.

He bent his head, his fingers on the back of her head pulling her close, and kissed her. Long and deep, leaving her breathless when he finally let her go. “I told you a long time ago, all you need to do is ask, kitten.”

Kate froze, that particular night, that particular ball, that particular sentence flashing through her memory. _If you want me to bed you like the rest of them, all you need to do is ask._ It made the blood boil in her veins again, just as it had then.

“You ask,” she said, pulling back as he leaned down for another kiss.

“Hmm?”

“If you want to bed me like the rest of them, Loki,” she said, and was surprised at the way his name seemed strange on her tongue, “then _you_ ask _me_.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, sensing a trap but not seeing it. Cocked his head a little as he considered her words, then shrugged.

“Can I take you to bed, Kate?” it was strange hearing her name from his lips, no _Lady_, no kitten, no Rémi, no Catriona. Just Kate. Stranger even than his own name sounded when she said it out loud without the Odinson. They’ve fallen so much into the habit of nicknames, using them for decades, centuries at a time, that their names now seemed odd. Intimate. Too intimate, perhaps.

“Alright.”

He smiled, eyes darting all over her face before focusing on her lips, “wonderful,” he mumbled, then kissed her again.


	5. Pandemonium

Kate watched Loki grow more and more sullen, more bitter, as Thor’s coronation day grew closer. She just watched, not really knowing what to say, how to make it better. Thor was arrogant and hot-headed; Loki was right that he wasn’t suited to rule. Maybe one day, but not yet. But Loki… he was a whole different kind of arrogant. He was smart and he knew it. He could get anyone to do anything and he knew it. He was right and he knew it. It got to his head in a way that she could tell was unhealthy. Too smart for his own good, she’d heard Frigga say once. Accurate.

They were saved from Thor’s coronation by the biggest mess they’d seen in _years_, a distraction to everyone. It all went downhill from there.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at Loki as he prepared to leave with Thor and his friends to the realm of the ice giants. They’ve gone mad, the lot of them. “You’ve gone mad,” she shook her head. Then, of course, she said, “I’m coming with you.”

“Have you lost your mind?!” he paused to look at her, anger in his eyes, then returned to stuffing knives in various hidden places on his person. “Absolutely not. You’re to tell father the moment we’re gone.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

The whole thing had been his idea, despite what Thor thought. She knew it. He knew it. “What are you playing at?”

“Just do it, kitten,” he sighed. “As soon as we’re gone.”

Kate nodded.

***

Loki came back shaken. She’d never seen him this way. Even Thor’s exile – although it put a smile on his lips – didn’t change the haunted look he had in his eyes. It wasn’t obvious, not really. But Kate had spent too much time with him not to notice that something was very, very wrong.

She’d mostly tried to disappear in the background during the whole thing, lest the Allfather remember that there’s a Midgardian in their midst, and send her back to earth together with Thor. Maybe she should have insisted to come with them, although her instinct for self-preservation knew that Loki was right to leave her behind. But if she’d been there, maybe she’d know why he was acting this way. Maybe she’d know what was wrong. Maybe if she’d stuck to his side afterwards, ignoring that look in his eyes that meant nobody should come near him if their life had any meaning to them at all, whatever it was that happened with Odin wouldn’t have happened. But she was busy trying to disappear in the background, and so she’d only heard that there was some altercation, that Odin had fallen into the Odinsleep.

With Thor gone, Loki had taken the throne.

In another time, that would’ve made Kate happy. Happy for him. Now, it just made her more anxious.

“What’s going on?” she caught up with him in a hallway, making his way to his room.

“Leave me be, Kate.”

“Tell me what’s going on with you,” she insisted, hurrying her steps to match his long stride.

“Leave. Me. Be.” His shoulders hunched a bit, just for a moment, bracing against an invisible attack. Then he straightened, shaking it off. He was a king, through and through. He wouldn’t be bothered by the likes of her. A stance to frighten any person with sense, even just watching it from behind like Kate did as she tried to catch up with him. It should’ve frightened her, as well, but it was too late to start being afraid of him now.

“Loki Odinson,” she reached for his arm, “stop and tell me what happened.”

He tore his arm out of her fingers with a violence she’d only seen reserved for others, turned to her, finally stopping.

“I’m not him.”

“Not who?”

“Odinson.”

“What?”

“Laufeyson. That’s who I am. A Frost Giant’s unwanted offspring, left to die. A pawn for Odin. A monster. I’m the monster they tell children about at night.”

He said it with a steely resolve, but his eyes were swimming until he blinked it away.

“So go away, _Lady Kate_. I’ve got a role to fill.”

“A monster?” Kate repeated, trying to process the information. A foundling baby, picked up by a king. Raised as a prince, but always found wanting. It all made sense now. Why Thor was favored. Why Loki never quite could fit in, not that he’d made many attempts to try in the time she’d known him. Kate wasn’t sure how many attempts he’d made before, though.

He shrugged, as if that was a confirmation, then turned and continued walking.

She watched him for a moment, anger coming to a slow burn, bubbling out. “A monster?” she called after him.

He paused again, clearly irritated, turned, “Yes. You’ve heard the stories. I was the one who told them to you.”

“So you’re a monster because you come from a realm of monsters, am I getting this right?”

“Finally, the little kitten is catching up,” the venom was dripping from his voice. The smile he had for her didn’t reach his eyes.

Now _her_ eyes were swimming, putting the image of him out of focus until she blinked the moisture out, down her cheeks. “What am _I_, then? What am I, you damned fool?”

***

She found them plotting Thor’s rescue in one of the rooms, and for a brief moment she thought they might actually harm her in an attempt to keep their plan secret. It took longer than expected to convince them to take her with them. She was Loki’s, after all. Loki’s _what_ was unclear, but they all knew where her loyalties lie.

“Thor is my brother,” she said. “And Loki…” she shrugged, not quite sure how to explain it. “He said I’m a monster,” which wasn’t strictly true, but he might as well have.

“He shouldn’t be on the throne,” she added after the silence stretched. “I love him, but he shouldn’t be on the throne.”

In the end, what tipped the scales was the fact that they didn’t actually want to hurt her, and the best way to make sure she wasn’t ruining their plan by telling Loki of it, was to keep her with them at all times. It suited her just fine. Also, she was in the room when Heimdall summoned them all, there was nowhere to go after that except answer his summons together.

***

It was strange being on Midgard without Loki. It was wrong. It was where they went together, to hide away, to forget, to party, to have fun. Now she was there with Thor’s friends and it was everything but fun.

They’ve landed outside a desert town, making their way in the heat in full Asgardian clothes to find Thor, who presumably was somewhere in the town. Kate tried to keep the Asgardians off the road, but mostly failed. She considered it a success she managed to convince them to get on a sidewalk rather than challenge an approaching pickup truck. She wasn’t quite sure who would win that kind of a challenge, and they had no time to waste on figuring it out.

“Found you!” Volstagg announced, knocking on the glass door when they’ve reached a house near the edge of town and spotted him through the door. He was dressed in jeans, a tshirt and a checkered shirt on top. It took Kate a moment to reconcile the image with her big brother the warrior, but the two quickly meshed together. The others in the room just stared at them.

It was a bit of a mess of introductions and shocked stares.

“We’re here to take you home,” Fandral said.

“You know I can’t go home; my father is dead because of me. I must remain in exile.”

“Is that what he told you?” Kate asked.

“Who?”

“Loki,” she rolled her eyes. Who else would be telling him something like that? And what was Loki up to? Something was going with him. Kate wondered whether Thor would help her figure it out, or just make it worse.

“Thor, your father still lives,” Lady Sif said, and Kate watched the anger start boiling in her brother’s eyes, and decided he was just going to make it worse.

Everything went spectacularly wrong minutes later when The Destroyer arrived. They’ve split up, getting the people to safety, giving the warriors space to fight. They’ve cleared everyone they could and met up behind a building, watching in morbid fascination as the automaton burned through the town. Then Sif pinned it down, and Kate took a proper breath. It got stuck in her throat when the machine started moving again. Morbid fascination turned to fear.

“Go,” Thor said, watching his friends scatter. Kate couldn’t look away from it. “Now, run,” a hand on her shoulder, his, tearing her away, pushing her and another woman – Jane? She thought her name was Jane – away from the danger.

“Thor wait,” everyone else did as they were told, already running.

“Go, Kate. You’re not safe here.”

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him that something was wrong with Loki. That he wasn’t being himself, wasn’t being rational. She wanted to tell him that she was happy to see him. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to ask him how he’d found Midgard, compare impressions. They were never very close, Thor and her. Not like she’d been with Loki. But he was her brother, and the world was burning around her, and she wanted to-

“Go!” he pushed her away. Kate stumbled, “I’m right behind you,” and he was. For a few moments they were all together. And then he was gone, diverting his route to get to Sif.

They were falling back, all but Thor.

“No wait,” they pulled her back with them, but he didn’t come. Her stupid brother didn’t come. “Wait!” she said again. They stopped.

“What’s he doing?” Jane took the words right out of Kate’s mouth.

“Oh no, oh no no no no…” both of them. Both of them have lost their minds on the same day. This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t just going to have to watch them fight each other like this. Damn them both, the idiots. “No you idiots stop it,” but they didn’t hear her. Sif glanced at her, just for a moment, then back at the scene unfolding ahead of them.

Thor was talking, saying something to The Destroyer, stepping closer as he spoke. The fire died behind the metal shield. Kate released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Finally, sanity.

A moment later Thor was flying in the air, thrown across the road by the machine.

“No!” Jane reacted first, running before Thor’s body hit the ground.

Kate couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening. Loki didn’t just kill his brother. Didn’t just kill her brother. This wasn’t happening. She couldn’t run to his body; her feet wouldn’t move. They stayed rooted to the ground and she watched as he and the woman spoke, then he closed his eyes, stopped moving.

This wasn’t happening.

The Destroyer was walking away, she followed it, not thinking. Odd that it was easier to follow the machine than take the few steps closer to Thor. She followed it and spoke under her breath, “What have you done, _Rei_? How could you?” Kate thought she saw it pause, just briefly, at her words, but it was so brief it might as well have been a trick of her mind.

Then it did pause and turn, as Thor’s hammer came flying through the air and Thor himself was wrapped in lightning. There was a moment of joy, pure, undulated joy when Kate realized her brother was going to be fine, and not only that, he got his hammer back. The moment turned into pure horror when she realized they were going to be facing off again.

“No, you idiots.”

Of course, they didn’t hear her.

It didn’t take long, and Kate was grateful. Her already frayed nerves couldn’t have handled watching the fight for long, and she wasn’t the kind to look away. It didn’t take long, and when Thor appeared from the dark grey storm cloud he’d created, Kate felt relief like she hasn’t in a very, very long time. They lived.

“-you normally look?” she caught the end of Jane’s question, the look she had in her eyes while looking at Thor. The smile he had for her. Huh. Interesting. She missed parts of the conversation going around her, too absorbed in processing this new information.

“Do you want to see the bridge we spoke of?”

The newcomer that has appeared with a group of identically dressed man, Son of Coul, tried to speak, “Wait, I need to debrief you,” but Thor paid him no attention. A moment later he disappeared, flying on his hammer with the woman in his arms, going to the Bifrost.

She exchanged an eyeroll with Sif.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know, Son of Coul,” Kate said. She wanted to go home, but she wasn’t ready to watch yet another round of Thor and Loki fighting. Not so soon. She’d let them fight it out and come back when they’ve both got it out of their systems. Try to talk some sense into Loki. Try to calm Thor down. Maybe now with this Jane in the picture, it would be easier. She was already working on what she’d say to each of them, as she made her way with Son of Coul (Coulson, he told her, not Son of Coul) to the back of his car.

“Follow them to the Bifrost site,” Kate said. “I’ll talk on the way.”

The road was grating on Kate’s nerves, each bump a sharp stab in her gut. It wasn’t pain; she wasn’t in pain. She just had a terrible feeling. Somewhere in the universe, the brothers were either already fighting, or preparing to fight. She spoke to Coulson through the distracted haze of a hundred different scenarios going through her mind, each one ending in blood, if not in death. She didn’t _really_ think they’d kill each other. Not really. But there was a whole range of in-between.

When they reached the bridge, Thor and the warriors were gone. Jane and the other people were still there, standing around, not really doing anything.

“If you think of anything else…” Coulson said, and gave her a card. She glanced at it, curling her fist around it. Then he was gone, and she was left alone with Jane and the other two. She didn’t even get their names.

“They said they have to go back,” the woman who wasn’t Jane spoke.

“Heimdall,” Kate stood in the middle of the circle. She didn’t yell, she knew he’d hear her. “Heimdall come on,” they were probably fighting. Right now. It was a bad idea to stay behind. She needed to get there. She needed to get there and make them both see sense. Make them stop.

“He didn’t hear them before,” Jane said. “Thor called him several times, but he didn’t hear.”

“But they’re gone.”

“Yeah, the colorful beam took them.”

“So he heard them. Heimdall!”

Nothing.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

***

They were there the whole night. Kate called for Heimdall until her voice was hoarse. He didn’t hear. Then the bridge disappeared, and while Kate’s stomach dropped to the ground in horror at the implication, the worst pain she’d ever felt in her life hit her. It coursed through her entire body, pulsing with her heartbeat, flowing through her veins. White-hot, blinding pain. A sound escaped her throat, but she couldn’t hear it. All she heard was the pounding of her own heart, fast and erratic.

Slowly the world came back into focus, the pain dulled, focusing around a loss.

“Kate?” she turned her head towards the sound of her name. The women were kneeling around her, Jane with her own pain, Darcy with concern. The man stood a step behind, forehead creased in worry. She tried to focus on them, their faces, but they swam in and out of focus as the tears poured, unbidden, down her cheeks.

Loss.

Kate had never realized the awareness she had of them. Never really paid any mind to it. She just knew where they were if she stopped to pay attention to the information. Knew that they were alright, knew when they weren’t, as rare as those occasions were. And now one was gone. Loki was gone.

She couldn’t breathe.

The Bifrost was closed. Everyone she’d ever known were on the other end. Heimdall wasn’t answering. Loki was gone. Did Thor kill him? He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have.

But Loki was gone.

She couldn’t breathe.


End file.
